Citizen Clinton (full parody screenplay - 20 years after first posting on FreeRepublic)

Author’s Note: Twenty years ago this week, I posted this parody screenplay for “Citizen Kane”, changing it into an all-Clinton cautionary tale. For 1998, some of it was a bit prophetic, some not so much. Many of the players have since died, others, unfortunately have not. It's pretty long, but 100% accurate.

The camera pans up a dark, cast iron gate. The camera zooms in on the giant initials “DW” at the top of the gate, before moving over the gate and into the park. In the distance, a decrepit mansion sits on a hill, with the only light in the park shining from one of it’s second story windows.

As the camera moves towards the light, we pass the broken down wasteland that was the Dreamworks Studio and Theme Park. The expansive park was obviously once the scene of much activity, but it is now deserted and overgrown. Abandoned movie sets, amusement rides, camera cranes, trailers, restaurants, and sound stages are scattered on either side of the camera shot, as it moves, slowly but unceasingly towards the lit window.

Shortly, the camera moves into the dark shadow of the mansion, blocking out the moonlight, and scanning over the boarded up doors and windows. The shot tightens - until the frame of the lit window fills the frame of the screen. Suddenly, the light within goes out. This stops the action of the camera and cuts the music which has been accompanying the sequence.

The camera zooms in slowly to the bloated image of an old William Jefferson Clinton lying nude and semiconscious on his bed. Next to him, on the night table, sits some porno magazines and an almost empty whiskey bottle. The camera zooms in further, onto Clinton's hand, which is holding a whiskey on the rocks.

The hand relaxes. The drink falls out of his hand and bounds down two carpeted steps leading to the bed, the camera following. The glass falls off the last step onto the marble floor where it breaks, the fragments glittering in the first rays of the morning sun.

The camera moves to the foot of Clinton's bed. Outlined against the shuttered window, we can see a very shapely form - a buxom nurse, as she pulls the sheet up over his head. The camera follows this action up the length of the bed and arrives at the face after the sheet has covered it.

Splashed across the screen, the words are simultaneously announced in a booming voice:

What follows in an old-fashioned newsreel of the type seen in movie theaters in the 1930's. Though the year is 2023, the style has been re-popularized, due to a massive decline in network news viewership. The narrator speaks in the style of exaggerated import, popular in these newsreels, while grandiose martial music blares in the background.

As the narrator intones the following monologue, we see a montage of shots, showing various Clinton confidantes in orange jumpsuits, interspersed with quick scenes from various congressional hearings, and shots like that of Bill Clinton’s famous finger-pointing denial, Al Gore toasting with Chinese dictators, the Branch Davidian compound burning to the ground, the blown-up aspirin factory in Sudan, and so on.

NARRATOR: Legendary was the corruption and scandals that occurred during the reign of Caligula, third emperor of Rome! Caligula, it is said, exploited the trust and power that he had inherited from the more honest and stable emperors, Augustus and Tiberius. Caligula's bizarre behavior illustrated the depravity that can ensue from the volatile mix of absolute power and a total disregard of honor and duty. Today - almost as legendary - is the legacy of William Jefferson Clinton. His administration still produces daily revelations of the depth of it’s corruption, nearly a quarter century after his reign ended.

NARRATOR: Tinseltown, tarnished and tired, is the only town in America where the former president is still revered. The year of 2023 bears witness to one of the strangest funerals ever held. Laid to rest here - a potent figure of the last century - America's Caligula - William Jefferson Clinton. He was despised by his enemies, loved by his admirers, worshipped by a fawning (lowered vocal tone) - some say complicit - (normal tone resumes) liberal media. The funeral for this last, larger-than-life figure of "The American Century" is marked mainly by the spotty attendance of the entertainment industry's has-beens... and never-weres.

Shot of an elderly, weeping Tim Robbins, falling into the arms of an equally distraught Bronson Pinchot.

Shot of a huge, screen-filling picture of Clinton. Pull back to show that it is a picture on the front page of the "New York Times" capped by the headline “CLINTON DEAD AT 77”. Below that - the sub-head, “Actually - We Were Against Him The Whole Time”. The NY Times drops onto a table top, followed a moment later by another newspaper.

Dropping on top of each other in succession are newspapers from around the world. Each contains a picture of Clinton and headlines in English and other languages. When the language is other than English, a translation appears beneath. Most headlines use words similar to “war-monger”, “traitor”, or “disgrace”. Diverging from this negative theme, a few papers or magazines drop randomly onto the pile: Variety - “The Death of Hollywood’s Handsome Rogue Warrior”; Ebony - “America’s Only Black President Mourned”; Beijing Chronicle - “Great American Leader Becomes Revered Holy Deity”; Village Voice - “Clinton Dead - Is The NYPD Responsible?”

The camera shows news footage from the 1992 campaign. No audio accompanies these scenes, only the continuing music. The shots are of Clinton barnstorming through the states, shaking hands and kissing babies. Bill and Hillary’s joint "60 Minutes" appearance plays briefly and silently. Then, we see a frontal shot of the Clintons and Gores - on stage at the Democratic convention, with their arms around each other. The shot switches to one from behind them, so we can see the adoring crowd. As they wave, we see Clinton’s hand move down and he starts massaging Tipper Gore’s buttocks. While she continues to wave with one hand, she slaps his hand away with the other.

NARRATOR: Adored by millions of Americans... hated by millions more. For eight years, he held the highest office in the land. During this time, there was no issue on which he took a principled stand. And - if it could help minimize his own short-comings - there was no historical figure too revered to be slandered.

Quick newspaper headlines, and network news banners: “Reagan - A Rapist Too?”; “Harding Had Chinese ‘Laundry’ Service”; “William Howard Taft & The Intern”; “The Bastard Child Of Thomas Jefferson ”; “JFK’s Bent Penis”.

NARRATOR: When called upon to serve his country in war - he became a sudden pacifist. When other lives were on the line - he became bellicose. Not a single declared war occurred during his administration, yet American bombs fell on more foreign countries than under any president since World War II.

NARRATOR: Poll numbers fading? - Iraq is bombed! (little explosion symbol appears on the map) Former lover to testify? - Sudan and Afghanistan will pay! (more little explosion symbols appear) Chinese espionage culpability? - Yugoslavia will share Clinton’s pain! (many more little explosions pop up all over Yugoslavia, one lands obviously outside Yugoslavia’s border) Sorry Bulgaria!

Famed in American legend, is the humble origins of William Jefferson Clinton. Raised in Little Rock, Arkansas, the poor son of a single mother, he went on to become the most powerful man in the world!

A faded photograph, showing young Billy Clinton in his mother’s lap on a porch. The camera pulls back revealing the small house in it’s entirety. The old photo of the house falls out of focus, as the focus returns it has been replaced by a stunningly beautiful photograph of the White House which slowly fades away.

Video of a Congressional Investigating Committee runs silent under the narration. Janet Reno faces the committee, flanked by David Kendall. She is being questioned by a hostile congressman. A document has just been placed on the table in front of her.

NARRATOR: But his reign of power was marked by scandal after scandal, culminating in charges - never wholly proven - of espionage and treason. In the years after his term concluded, an endless parade of accusations and counter accusations reverberated through the hallowed halls of congress.

GRAHAM: Why is your signature on a detailed plan to cover up the theft of our nuclear technology secrets?

RENO: I had to do all I could to prevent congress and the media from discovering this breach of national security. I thought it could be embarrassing to the president - if this information came out.

GRAHAM: (sarcastically) Oh, and I suppose “protecting the president, while denying the American people the truth” is in your job description?

RENO: (pulling out a sheet of paper) Actually, that exact wording is in my job description - President Clinton wrote it up and made me sign it before he would re-appoint me for a second term.

An explosion of camera flashes and gasps from the crowd, as the chairman begins bagging his gavel. With a nod, he recognizes Congressman Bob Barr.

BARR: (reading) "It is my considered belief that President William Jefferson Clinton, in every essence of his social beliefs and by the dangerous manner in which he has persistently attacked the American tradition of the rule of law and our national security is, in fact, nothing more or less than a traitor to his own country!"

Video of the mall in Washington. In the shadow of the Washington Memorial, a speaker appears before a crowd of thousands.

SPEAKER: The policies and corruption of William Jefferson Clinton are a menace to every decent, law-abiding citizen in this land. He is today what he has always been and always will be - AN IMPEACHED, FELONIOUS, CONTEMPTIBLE, CRIMINAL!

Clinton stands before a large gathering of delirious supporters. A huge self-portrait hangs behind him.

CLINTON: The children. Their health. Their happiness. Their right to joy and beauty - each and every day of their lives. That’s what I’m about. That is the most important policy goal of William Jefferson Clinton!

The crowd goes wild. Clinton jumps down off the podium and reaches over the barricades to shake hands with well-wishers.

Another newsreel shot, much later, very brief, showing Clinton, older and much fatter, very tired-looking, running a gauntlet of protesters outside of a movie premier.

NARRATOR: After he left office, his wife left him - to pursue an alternative lifestyle. Disgraced as a statesman, he tried his hand at movie producing. But, many of his movies were seen as veiled attempts to justify, ala Woody Allen, his own myriad personal failings. Others were poorly disguised attacks against those who were allied against him. When his movie producing career crashed, he took an entire film studio down with him. In fact, he nearly destroyed the whole industry.

Shot of an enormous federal building in Washington. Forklifts move pallets of boxes about.

NARRATOR: An estimated two million pounds of evidence, collected by Clinton’s relentless nemesis, Ken Starr, lies gathering dust in a Washington warehouse. Cost of these investigations: no man can say! Enough documents to fill ten Presidential libraries - but for Clinton, there would be none.

NARRATOR: For seventeen years he lived, alone, in his decaying, pleasure palace, on the abandoned Dreamworks lot. Aloof, seldom visited, never photographed, William Jefferson Clinton vainly attempted to sway, as he once did, the destinies of a nation that had ceased to listen to him ... ceased to trust him...

A surreptitious shot, through a fence, of a very old Clinton, being wheeled about the abandoned lot by a young, beautiful nurse. She squeals as his shaky, sickly hands reach over his head and try, in vain, to touch her breasts.

NARRATOR: Last week, as it must to all men, death came to William Jefferson Clinton.

Smoke fills the screening room, lit only by a small table lamp, and a brilliant ray of light spilling out through the window to the projection room. Through the haze of cigarette smoke, we can distinguish only shadows. Three men, all journalists, stand and stretch. The fourth man, Mr. Rawlston, is obviously in charge - the others await his instructions. During the entire course of this scene, nobody's face is really seen. Sections of their bodies are picked out by the table light, as their shadows move about the room.

RAWLSTON: (loudly) Stay in there Louie, I'll let you know if we want you to run it again.

RAWLSTON: It's a tough thing to do in a newsreel. Seventy-seven years of a man's life -

FIRST JOURNALIST: Did ya see what old Sydney Blumenthal wrote about him in Playgirl?

SECOND JOURNALIST: Yeah, he said that Clinton tricked him into being a supporter. Now, Syd realizes that Clinton, all along, was a disingenuous liar.

THOMPSON: A revelation... twenty years too late. Syd's a bitter old queen - Clinton never got him a job a Dreamworks. Before that, that "journalist" was more than happy to overlook anything Clinton ever did...

RAWLSTON: Thompson, that's a fine film you've put together, but it lacks an overlying theme. It needs something... you know...

RAWLSTON: That's it - a hook. What made Clinton what he was? And, for that matter, what was he? What we've just seen are the outlines of a perverse political career - what was behind the career? What drove him? Was he truly evil or just incompetent? Malevolent or silly? Why did he do all those things? What was he after? (thinking out loud) "William Jefferson Clinton was a..."

The journalists talk over each other, to get a word in - "liar!", "rapist!", "traitor!", "reprobate!", "sexual predator!"...

RAWLSTON: Ask the question anyway! What were Clinton's last words? (silence) What were the last words he said on earth?

SECOND JOURNALIST: (hesitant) Yes, Mr. Rawlston, what were Clinton's dying words?

RAWLSTON: Here's a man who's been loved and hated and talked about as much as any man in our time - but when he comes to die, he's got something on his mind called "Rosebush." What does that mean?

FIRST JOURNALIST: A racehorse he bet on once, probably, that didn't come in - Rosebush!

RAWLSTON: All right. But what was the race? You have to get out there and find out what Rosebush is.

SECOND JOURNALIST: With all due respect, Mr. Rawlston, that's just not how journalism is done. We covered his death from the TV reports, what more do you want?

RAWLSTON: (longing for a different day) How about an original story! How about a little hard work - rather than just writing a synopsis of the daily press conferences? There's a big story out there! Nobody's figured out what "Rosebush" meant.

SECOND JOURNALIST: That would involve thinking up the right question to ask, finding the person who can answer the question, and actually taking the time to meet the person and ask the question.

FIRST JOURNALIST: We might even need to think up relevant and probing followup questions on-the-spot... that's alot to ask from a journalist!

RAWLSTON: Are any of you interested in doing the hard investigative work that once defined journalism?

FIRST JOURNALIST: (feebly) But don't you think if we release it now - he's only been dead four days - it might be better than if -

RAWLSTON: (decisively) Nothing is ever better than finding out what makes people tick. Thompson, go after the people that knew Clinton well. Forget his ex-wife, though - she still has a restraining order against you.

SECOND JOURNALIST: I pass by his brother Roger everyday on my way into work. Most people don't even recognize him.

RAWLSTON: That's it! Who else is still around? Talk to Morris, if you can get an appointment. And Carville works down at the warehouse in Washington. Who was that little effete sidekick Clinton had for a while?

THOMPSON: Stephanopoulis. George Stephanopoulis. I think he's up in a nursing home... applied for early admission, if I remember correctly. I'll get to it right away, Mr. Rawlston.

RAWLSTON: (rising) Good! "Rosebush" - dead or alive! It'll probably turn out to be a very simple thing...

Thompson grabs his coat and sets out to interview those who knew Bill Clinton well - to flesh out his character, and to try to find the meaning of Clinton's last word - "Rosebush".

This is the post-Guiliani Times Square (very reminiscent of the pre-Guiliani Times Square). The camera pans high, across the dark and broken neon signs that once lit the square from above. It sweeps across the former Disney Store, dilapidated and abandoned, with the lower half of a giant Mickey Mouse figure hanging precariously from the side of the building. The shot angles down towards the street below, and finds the upper half of the Mickey figure. His white-gloved hand is raised in a merry, four-finger wave, two stories tall. Mickey's torso and head sit upright on the sidewalk, like the Statue of Liberty at the end of "Planet of the Apes". Thompson crosses the shot, walking through the desolate landscape. There are hookers everywhere, thugs in the shadows, homeless person carpeting. Thompson speaks to one of the hookers and shows her a picture. She waves him along and starts down the street, with Thompson on her heels. They enter an alley, and she points to a big lump of tattered newspapers. He hands her a bill and she disappears. Thompson walks over and starts pushing papers aside to uncover the person underneath.

THOMPSON: Roger!...(he shakes the body)...Roger get up, I have a few questions to ask you. I'll give you fifty dollars if you'll answer some questions.

Roger Clinton sits upright at the suggestion of money. He has long, filthy white hair and a shaggy beard. His clothes are tattered - he has obviously been living on the street for some time. He rubs his eyes, then coughs and spits phlegm to his side.

ROGER: Fifty dollars! This must be about my brother, god rest his soul. (He laughs at this joke that only he understands. The spastic laugh turns into a cough, which doesn't stop until he hacks and spits again.) Nobody ever paid fifty dollars for information about me.

THOMPSON: It'll be alot more than fifty, if you can provide the information I need.

THOMPSON: That won't do. Let's walk to a coffee shop. I'll buy you something to eat... then we'll talk.

The coffee shop, like the rest of Times Square, is broken down and dirty. Roger is wolfing down the last of his eggs, bacon, and toast. He washes it down with a big swig of coffee.

ROGER: Bill really helped me out when he was a politician... he just didn’t want to be saddled with a loser brother, I guess. The whole “Billy Carter” thing. The rules are different in Hollywood. You know what I mean? Nobody blames Alec Baldwin for Steven. Anyway, Bill stopped accepting my calls after he left office.

THOMPSON: Hollywood didn’t work out for your brother. He produced bomb after bomb, and they just kept giving him more money. Sorta like Spike Lee. He brought down the whole studio.

ROGER: Bill’s movies were too controversial. They said he was making movies to mock his enemies. That could be true, but I think his “Life of Christ” was heartfelt. And that “Last Supper” section, it had some of the most erotic naked eating scenes since “9 ½ Weeks”... I mean, they were erotic if you’re gay...which I’m not! Write that down! So what is it you really want to know about Bill?

THOMPSON: Really, anything you can tell me. But specifically, do you have any idea what “Rosebush” might mean?

ROGER: Rosebush... his last word. To tell you the truth, I’ve really been wracking what’s left of my brain to try to remember where I heard that before. I can’t quite put my finger on it exactly, but it brings to mind the year Bill left for college. I don’t know why...

ROGER: Well, I was in the house with mother, Bill was out back, fishing in the pond...

The camera moves across the small pond. As it nears the opposite shore, we see the young Billy Clinton for the first time. He is leaning back against a tree, with his fishing pole in his hand, the line disappearing into the pond. The camera continues over him and moves towards the home of Clinton’s mother, Virginia Kelly. The camera seems to move right through the open window and into the home.

Roger and his mother are in the parlor. A man, obviously a cab driver, stands by the front door.

CAB DRIVER: Mrs. Kelly, if we’re going to make that plane, we really need to be going soon.

Mrs. Kelly turns towards the camera and we see her face - tired and nervous. She speaks to Roger.

ROGER: He’s really reluctant to leave Mom. He says he’s thinking of taking a semester off, maybe even a year...I don't know why.

From outside, we can faintly hear the hooting of Billy Clinton. Through the window, we see him leaning towards the water, fighting a fish on his line.

MRS. KELLY: That’s nonsense. There’s no reason for him to hang around here, Roger. He’ll just find trouble. It’s time for him to grow up.

ROGER: Well, it's just that... if he wants to hang around I don’t see how you’ll make him...

MRS. KELLY: I've got his trunk all packed - (she chokes a little) I've had it packed for a week now...

She can't say anymore and moves towards the front door. Roger, ill at ease, has no idea of how to comfort her.

Young Billy is running up from the pond. He is smiling and holding up a six-inch fish he has caught. Billy looks up as he sees the single file procession, with his mother at the head, coming towards him.

BILLY: See, Mom? I just got the hook out of his mouth. Take him inside, I'll catch us another!

MRS. KELLY: You better come inside, son. You and I have got to get you all ready for - for -

MRS. KELLY: Billy, this is your cab driver. He's going to take you to the airport. It's time to go to college.

BILLY: (enraged) Not now!!...(calming down)...I think I need a little more time, Mom...you know, before I leave Little Rock...college is a big step...ummm...the fish are just starting to bite!...I think I need a semester to think about it...

MRS. KELLY: Billy, there's no reason to stay here. This man is waiting to take you to the airport.

BILLY: I don't want to go to college yet! Maybe I'll go next year...I like it here - in Little Rock!

MRS. KELLY: I know you like it here, Billy, but you're going to college in Washington. From there, who knows where you'll go! You're going to love Washington! It's your kind of town.

CAB DRIVER: It sure is! I wish I were a little boy, making a trip like that for the first time...can we get going now?

CAB DRIVER: Come on, kid. Let's shake a leg! (He motions toward his taxi. Billy continues glaring at him.) Now, now... college is not as frightening as all that! Let's move - watta you say?

He reaches out for Billy's hand. Without a word, Billy smacks him across the face with his fishing pole. The cab driver stumbles back a few feet, rubbing the fresh welt on his face.

He moves towards Clinton, but Billy swings the pole at him again. The cab driver dodges the pole and backs up, turning on Mrs. Kelly.

Billy is nodding at Roger, and looks eager to accept his offer. Mrs. Kelly steps in, and puts her arm around Billy, squeezing him in a bear hug. The fishing pole falls to the ground.

BILLY: (annoyed, but unable to get away from her hug) Mom, I think I need to speak to Roger in private.

MRS. KELLY: (slowly) That's why he's going to college, where you can't get at him.

She starts walking Billy, still locked in a hug, towards the taxi. As they step out of the shot, the camera focuses on the fishing pole, lying abandoned in the grass.

ROGER: Awww...why did Bill have to get all the talent for lying? Listen, dude, I am seriously broke.

Thompson drops a twenty on the counter to pay for the meal. He hands Roger a fifty, thinks for a moment, and hands him another fifty.

ROGER: Thanks, dude, I really appreciate it. Sorry I couldn’t help you with that Rosebush thing. Where are you off to next?

ROGER: It's no trick to be a successful politician, if all you want to be is a successful politician.

Thompson puts on his coat, and walks out of the coffee shop. Roger stands up, looks around, and grabs the twenty off the counter before bolting out the door.

An preposterous statue of Mr. Gore himself, executed in expensive marble. He is portrayed standing, with his face looking up and off to the left. Meant to suggest vision and greatness, it more effectively produces a caricature of pretentious silliness.

The shot moves down, showing the impressive pedestal on which the monument stands. The words, "Albert Arnold Gore, Jr." are prominently and elegantly engraved thereon. At the base of the pedestal sits an elderly mannish spinster, Beatrice Anderson, behind her desk. Thompson, his hat in his hand, is standing before her. Ms. Anderson is on the phone.

ANDERSON: Yes. I'll take him in now. (hangs up and looks at Thompson) The directors of the Gore Library have asked me to remind you again of the condition under which you may inspect certain portions of Mr. Gore's unpublished memoirs. Under no circumstances are direct quotations from his manuscript to be used by you.

ANDERSON: To show his commitment to the environment, Mr. Gore produced almost all his correspondence and publications on acid-free, unbleached, recycled paper. While this gesture was indeed a noble example, the paper was, alas, inferior, and eventually turned to dust. Very little of Mr. Gore’s written correspondence survives.

ANDERSON: As you know, after Mr. Gore lost the election for the Presidency, he decided that the failure was due in part to the media portrayal of his various claims as foolish. This, of course, was not the case. To prove his claim that he invented the internet was not insane, Mr. Gore backed up all of his documentation on a computer system of his own design.

THOMPSON: Yes, but I understand that he had a problem similar to the Y2K problem.

ANDERSON: Yes, its commonly called the “Tuesday” problem. Mr. Gore only calculated for six days in a week, inexplicably excluding Tuesday from his programs. In a national tragedy, all of his computer files eventually became terminally corrupted. Very little evidence of the great mind of Albert Gore survives to this day.

ANDERSON: Yes, that and two copies of his ecological masterpiece, “Earth in the Balance,” one of which resides in the safe with the manuscript, the other copy holds up the busted leg of this desk.

The camera pans down to the book, tattered and deformed around the broken table leg, and then back up to Anderson and Thompson.

She rises and starts towards a distant and imposingly framed door. Thompson follows.

A room that is very bland, made out of marble, illuminated from a skylight. Each wall in the room contains bookshelves with piles of dust on them. There is a gigantic, mahogany table in the center of everything. Beyond this, sunk in the marble wall at the far end of the room, is a safe from which a guard is extracting the journal of Albert Arnold Gore, Jr.

ANDERSON: You will confine yourself, it is our understanding, to the chapter dealing with the Chinese espionage. Pages eighty-three to one-forty-two.

She leaves. Thompson starts to light a cigarette. The guard shakes his head. With a sigh, Thompson bends over to read the manuscript. The camera moves down over his shoulder onto a page of manuscript.

Dear diary:
When these lines appear in print, fifty years after my death, I am confident that the whole world will be underwater due to global warming. I believe that the fishpeople will, by then, have evolved out of our species (“Differently-oriented” Sapiens). It is my hope that the fishpeople will understand my total innocence regarding the Chinese espionage problems during the Clinton/Gore administration. Much has been written about my complicity in this sad affair. I have been alternately portrayed as either intelligent enough to know what was going on, or too patriotic to have knowingly let this occur. In my defense, I can assure you, I was neither."

The camera follows the words with the same action that the eye does while reading. On the last words, the pages dissolves out of focus.

Al Gore is seated in front of the President’s desk, next to James Riady and John Huang. While the men chat, a television is set up in the corner of the room. The president occasionally glances at the television, but is also concerned with talking to the people in his office. On the TV, the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, is burning to the ground, with 80 members of the group perishing in the inferno.

RIADY: When I provided $100,000 dollars to your 1992 campaign, I viewed that money as a favor for a friend. I let you know then, that the day might come when I would ask a favor of you in return. Well, Mr. President, today is that day.

CLINTON: Wooohaaa!! Look at that guy on fire! Janet’s really screwed this one up. I’ll hold this one over her for years. Yooowww!! (laughing) That’s gotta hurt! Sorry James, I got a little distracted. You need a favor? No problem. You get what you paid for around here. I’m sure I can count on you for the ’96 campaign, as well.

CLINTON: As long as the check clears! There’s another one! Whoops! It’s a kid! Nice job, Janet, ya big dope. Here, let me turn this off. It’s distracting.

GORE: In my book, I show how the electrical power consumed for each hour of watching television leads indirectly to a half-acre of destruction to the rainforest.

RIADY: As you know, my company, the Lippo Group, is in fact a joint venture of China Resources, a holding company wholly owned by the Chinese communist government and used as a front for Chinese espionage operations.

RIADY: Well, in order to facilitate the transfer of your supercomputer technology to our military, we would like you to install my associate here, John Huang, in your Commerce Department.

CLINTON: No problemo, James. I got Ron Brown over there, running the show. The State Department occasionally gets in the way with those supercomputer sales. I’ll transfer that authority over to Commerce to speed things up.

CLINTON: Executive order. Stroke of the pen - law of the land! Pretty cool, huh? Congress could challenge it, but they all have their heads up their asses. Will Mr. Huang be needing any security clearance?

RIADY: Actually, he’ll need access to the highest levels of classified documents regarding these computers and data encryption. This may be a problem with your FBI, considering Mr. Huang’s connections to the Chinese military.

RIADY: Wonderful. I have instructed Mr. Huang to funnel many hundreds of thousands of dollars to your 1996 re-election campaign.

GORE: As is the earth, due to the destructive nature of a technological civilization.

RIADY: That figure could move up into the millions, but we will need to add a few additional items.

RIADY: My family owns one of the world’s two major sources of clean burning coal on earth. The other lies underground in an area of Utah. If you could declare this area, which is about the size of Connecticut, off-limits to mining, it would make our deposits in Indonesia much more valuable.

CLINTON: That could be a little tricky. I could swing an executive order to do that too, though. It would help if this land were ecologically sensitive.

CLINTON: Stifle yourself, Al! We’re talking business here. Are there any endangered species hanging around out there?

RIADY: No, unfortunately, it is pretty much your standard Western scrub land.

CLINTON: Listen James, if I can’t find some ecological justification, I’ll just say it’s “for the children”. That always shuts my critics up in a flash.

RIADY: Lastly, we would also like your nation’s cumulative knowledge of nuclear bomb technology. The so-called “Legacy Codes”.

CLINTON: I’ll see to it that my people at Los Alamos get a little lax... you’ll keep the contributions flowing for this?

Clinton rises to shake hands all around. Al Gore, looking lost, shakes hands with Riady and Huang, oblivious to the nature of the business just conducted.

A long shot of the Congressional Hearing Room. Janet Reno is sitting at a table in a gray wool dress. To her left is Attorney David Kendall, to her right is Attorney Johnny Cochran. Rep. Lindsey Graham is questioning her.

GRAHAM: Miss Reno, when you were given this report, in November of 1998, why did you not act to stop this hemorrhaging of our nuclear weapons data?

RENO: Congressman, in all due respect, at the time, all the prosecutors in my office were looking into serious allegations that some churches were maintaining tax-exempt status while actively “not liking” President Clinton.

GRAHAM: Let me read from the report: “the Energy Department recorded 324 attacks on its unclassified computer systems from outside the United States between October 1997 and June 1998, including instances when outsiders successfully gained complete access and total control to create, view, modify or execute any and all information stored on the system.”

COCHRAN: Mr. Graham, have you ever used the word, “Chink” when referring to an individual of an Asian persuasion?

GRAHAM: You were warned Mr. Cochran. Would the Federal Marshals please remove Mr. Cochran from the hearing room at this time?

Two armed men in suits pick up Johnny Cochran by the arm pits, and drag him towards the doorway.

COCHRAN: The system of justice demands that your racist past be explored! We have evidence that while in college, you ordered a “Kamikaze” in a bar called Whitloe’s. That bartender is willing to testify about that horrific, denigrating slur. Nuclear weaponry pales in its ability to destroy when compared to the racist utterances that emanate...

He is gone from the room. Janet Reno is really looking nervous now, and begins to shake as Mr. Graham continues.

GRAHAM: Miss Reno, a look at the records of your Justice Department, reveals that federal officials requested 2,686 wiretaps between 1993 and 1997. Your Justice Department approved 2,685. In those four years, just one request was turned down - the request to wiretap the most destructive spy in the history of the United States, Mr. Wen Ho Lee.

GRAHAM: I have here a picture taken in 1994 - September, I believe...are you familiar with this picture?

GRAHAM: In this picture, you are wearing a wastepaper basket on your head, and you are holding a three-quarters-empty bottle of scotch. You appear to be inebriated. Were you intoxicated at the time this picture was taken?

GRAHAM: On your left is James Riady, on your right is Mr. Wen Ho Lee, and to his right is General Ding Henggao, former commander of the Chinese Commission on Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense. Mr. Riady is handing you a few hundred dollar bills, and a new bottle of scotch. Mr. Lee is handing the General, who is a leading Chinese Communist expert on nuclear technology, a folder. The folder is coded FXT00D129. Are you aware of what our investigation showed this folder to contain?

Gasps and exclamations break out all over the hearing room. Flash bulbs are exploding rapid fire. The committee chairman begins banging furiously with his gavel, as Kendall jumps off his chair. He picks up one of the three phone books he has been sitting on, and begins beating Janet Reno with it.

KENDALL: Shut up, you stupid bitch!! Don’t tell them anymore!! We could all get the death penalty!!

The armed federal agents move forward to grab him, but before they get a chance, Janet Reno rifles a backhand across Kendall’s face, and he falls to the ground, bloodied and sobbing. A wet stain grows around his groin area, as the scene fades out.

The scene is a debate between candidates for the presidency - George Walker Bush and Al Gore. Al Gore is looking extremely uncomfortable.

BUSH: The American people have a right to know - what was discussed in that meeting in the Oval Office with Mr. Riady and Mr. Huang?

GORE: Hey, that’s not fair. Whenever Bill said something about “the children”, nobody ever questioned him! You’re picking on me! Mr. Blitzer, I call not fair!

BLITZER: I have to agree with the vice-president, Governor Bush. Please refrain from all confrontational questions. I suggest you ask Mr. Gore if his wife, Tipper, will make a great first lady.

BLITZER: Mr. Bush, please stop annoying the vice-president. I’m not going to warn you again!

Thompson - at the desk. With a gesture of annoyance, he is closing the manuscript. The shot floats over his head to catch Miss Anderson, coming into the room to shoo him out. Very prominent on the wall next to the door is an over-sized photo of Al and Tipper Gore, smiling and burning Twisted Sister and Metallica records. In the photo, Al is unaware that his pant leg is also on fire.

ANDERSON: You have enjoyed a very rare privilege, young man. Did you find what you were looking for?

ANDERSON: Mr. Clinton’s last word. I don’t think I can help you. Hey, was it the name of the ranch where Mr. Gore was killed? You know, when he tried to prove that he knew how to birth a calf with his bare hands?

THOMPSON: No, that was “Dullwood”. It was a real tragedy what that animal did to Mr. Gore.

ANDERSON: Indeed. The hoof marks were so deep, he had to have a closed casket. You know, Mr. Thompson, anyone could confuse a bull for a cow.

He puts his hat on his head and starts out, lighting a cigarette as he goes. Miss Anderson, scandalized by his use of murderous and vile tobacco, watches him leave in disgust.

Close shot of Thompson. He is tilted back in a chair in an old age home. Stephanopoulis’ girlish voice is heard for a few moments before he is seen.

STEPHANOPOULIS: You’re a taller man than I expected. Better dressed, too. That’s really a fine suit.

Camera has pulled back, during above speech, revealing that Stephanopoulis, wrapped in a blanket, is in a wheelchair, talking to Thompson. They are in a sunny room in an old age home. Stephanopoulis, though young for an old age home, appears much frailer than the other residents.

STEPHANOPOULIS: You don't mind a little fawning praise do you? Time was, when I was well paid to heap fawning praise on people. I've got a young psychiatrist who thinks I'm going to quit boot licking...fat chance... I changed the subject, didn't I? Dear, dear! What a disagreeable old man I've become. I like your haircut, very stylish. You want to know what I think of Bill Clinton? Well, he had a very generous mind. I don't suppose anybody ever had so many opinions. And he had the power to make people think he believed them. But, in the end he didn't believe in anything except Bill Clinton. He never had a conviction in his life. I guess he died without one... that must have been pretty unpleasant. Anything you want me to compliment you about? I was really good at it in my day.

STEPHANOPOULIS: That’s fine. You exude confidence. I guess you want to know about the early days of the first campaign. Well, Bill was a conniving politician even then. He entertained the voters, but he never told them the truth.

STEPHANOPOULIS: I can remember everything. Unless I’m before a congressional investigating committee, if you know what I mean. As far as I was concerned, Bill behaved like a swine. I could never say that to his face, though, even years after I left his employ. Sure, I wrote a mildly negative book. I tried to portray myself as a victim, but maybe I was what nowadays you’d call a stooge. I wasn’t like Vince. Have you heard the story about how Bill got Vince on his presidential campaign team. The way I heard it, they made a pact in an Arkansas Shoney’s. You’re obviously too classy to have eaten in a common restaurant like a Shoney’s - I can tell by you’re dignified manner. Oh, there I go again...it was in a Shoney’s...

A fortyish Bill Clinton is seated at a table across from Vince Foster. The two are talking enthusiastically - there is great sense of optimism and idealism in the air.

CLINTON: I really think I can accomplish great things, Vince, but I’m gonna need your help to get the ball rolling.

FOSTER: I understand that, Bill, but I have some worries. You’ve spent every moment I’ve known you scheming and lying. You’ll say anything to anyone to get them to do things for you. Won’t you just do the same to get elected?

CLINTON: You’ll have to excuse me for a moment. I need to use the men’s room.

Clinton gets up from the table, and heads towards the bathroom. As he turns the corner, we see Hillary from where she was listening in on their conversation.

HILLARY: What the hell is the matter with you Bill? You haven’t sold him, yet?!

CLINTON: I don’t know what to tell him, Hillary. He seems to know all my tricks.

HILLARY: Oh for Christ’s sake Bill, think on your feet. Learn some new tricks - you idiot! Are you sure we planned this right? Maybe I should play the noble do-gooder politician and you should be the loyal subservient spouse.

Clinton walks back to the table. Hillary resumes listening from her hiding place.

FOSTER: As I was saying Bill, I don’t think you’re very honest or trustworthy.

CLINTON: You have me pegged all wrong, Vince. I know I sometimes skirt around the truth, hell I almost never hit it, but I have my reasons. It’s all for the children. I know that sounds corny and old-fashioned, but I sincerely mean it. I know that if I do eventually become president, I can really help the children of this country. Sometimes, I tell people what they want to hear, but my only reason for doing that is to eventually help the children. (biting his lip) Can I count on you to help me help those kids?

Clinton reaches into his pocket and takes out a pen. Looking around for something to write on, he finally seizes the menu off the table. He turns it over and begins writing furiously. When he is done, he hands it over to Foster, and sits back contentedly. Foster begins to read aloud.

FOSTER: “I, William Jefferson Clinton, will run the most ethical administration in the history of this country.” Well Bill, you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it. I’m gonna keep this particular piece of paper. I have a feeling it might be important someday.

STEPHANOPOULIS: Well, Vince fell for it. But as the campaign progressed, he started to sense he had made the wrong decision. You have the most penetrating eyes, by the way. I remember one day in the War Room...

Camera pulls back to reveal Foster holding the "New York Times" copy, on which we read the headline. He is standing near the War Room round table around which Clinton, Hillary, and Carville, are eating lunch.

CLINTON: I know how to run a campaign, Vince. We just make up any claim that will help us. This isn’t rocket science.

FOSTER: (reading headline of the paper he is still holding) "Worst Economy in 50 Years!" You know that there isn’t the slightest proof that this statement is true.

CLINTON: Then maybe you’re working for the wrong campaign, Vince. The New York Times believes it to be true.

FOSTER: That’s because they accept anything you say at face value. They don’t fact check, anymore. Just because they want to see you elected, and will print anything you say as gospel, doesn’t mean we need to lie to the American people!

STEPHANOPOULIS: I love your tie, Mr. Clinton. The new economic statistics are in. They’re not good. The economy is clearly bouncing back. It seems that this was a very minor slowdown. Too minor, in fact, too even be considered a recession. The facts are undeniable.

Stephanopoulis sits down, as fast as he can, and rifles through his pockets for a pen. Finding one, he gets set to write.

HILLARY: The economic data released today proves beyond any doubt that we are headed for a financial meltdown. The working class people of this once great country are facing destitution and starvation should the economic policies of George Bush continue. The time to address this crisis is now, but George Bush is busy playing golf in Kennebunkport!

STEPHANOPOULIS: That's great, Mrs. Clinton. You have such a wonderful way with words...and you are quiet beautiful.

CLINTON: Brilliant job, Hillary. James, can you go on the talk shows and push this point?

CARVILLE: I cain’t believe what ahm hearin’! Starvation and destitution! Those bastard Republicans! Starvin’ children and such. Stupid policies leading ta economic meltdown. Talk about it? Ahm dang near ravin’ already!

Carville rushes out of the room to get to work. Clinton looks up, grinning at Foster, who is bursting with indignation but controls himself. After a moment of indecision, he decides to make one last try.

FOSTER: Bill, I have too much integrity to stand by and watch this charade -

CLINTON: (his manner becomes serious) Vince, I am a candidate for President. As such, it is my duty - I'll let you in on a little secret, it is also my pleasure - to see to it that decent, hard-working people of this country are misled and frightened into voting for me. If I run a campaign that is ethical and honest, how many votes do you think I’ll garner? It won’t be enough, I’ll tell you that.

CLINTON: Do you know how to spin, Vince? You ought to learn - (humming quietly, he begins to twirl) It’s politics for the 90’s, and I make the rules. You’ve got alot to learn. C’mon and take a walk with me.

They grab their jackets and head for the door. Stephanopoulis trails behind like a loyal dog.

DISSOLVE: EXT. THE BUSH REELECTION CAMPAIGN’S WASHINGTON HEADQUARTERS - 1992

Clinton, Foster, and Stephanopoulis are reflected in the glass into which they are looking. Inside the Bush campaign headquarters is a large poster, listing popular positions of the Republican Party.

CLINTON: The Republicans are for Welfare Reform. Do you have any idea of the percentage of Americans who favor welfare reform?

CLINTON: That’s right - seventy-six percent. Can anyone explain to me why we’re not for welfare reform?

FOSTER: Because, as liberals, we believe that it is the government’s responsibility to provide sustenance and dignity to the poor people on welfare. We believe that any reform will harm those people.

CLINTON: What part of “seventy-six percent” do you not understand, Vince? Look at those other positions - Balanced Budget, School Uniforms, Tough on Crime, Death Penalty, Free Trade, and so on. The Republicans have been pushing these issues for years. Do you know how popular I could become with some of their issues?

Clinton lights a cigar and begins puffing it. The camera moves in and focuses on the list of popular Republican positions. As the shot tightens, the title “Republicans Believe In...” is squeezed out of the frame. After pausing a few seconds, the camera begins to move back out. The title has been replaced by “Bill Clinton Believes In...” and it is now a placard on an easel with Clinton standing next to it, still smoking a cigar. Flashbulbs are popping as reporters take pictures of Clinton next to the placard. He is standing in front of a group of fifty campaign workers.

CLINTON: (a sudden thought for the fawning photographers) Make up an extra copy and mail it to the Bush campaign!

Chuckling and beaming, he makes his way to his place at the head of a long banquet table, at which the campaign workers have finished their meals. Clinton gets his guests' attention by rapping on the table with a knife.

CLINTON: Members of my campaign! We are running twelve points ahead in the polls!

STEPHANOPOULIS: (yelling) That shirt looks great on you and you’re now up fourteen points!

CLINTON: By this time next month, my campaign team will become my transition team!

Wild applause and cheering. The shot switches to a close up of Foster talking to Stephanopoulis.

STEPHANOPOULIS: Vince, you look great, have you lost weight? The election is almost won. Then, we can really get to work.

He puts his two fingers in his mouth and lets out a shrill whistle. This is a signal. Motley Crue’s “Girls, Girls, Girls” begins blaring from an unseen stereo, as twenty extremely beautiful strippers come dancing into the room. They begin tearing off their bikinis and performing lap dances on some of the men. Hillary and a couple of the more mannish women beckon girls over, while the rest of the women just laugh at the roguish antics.

Clinton is standing by the window. Stephanopoulis and Foster are seated in front of the desk. Hillary is sitting in the President’s chair. She is on the phone.

HILLARY: Yes, get me all the files...Don’t lecture me about laws! Do as I tell you! If I don’t see 1,000 unfiltered FBI files on our Republican enemies on my desk by this evening, you can go right back to bar bouncing!

HILLARY: Once we get that information into a database, we’ll have instant access to unsubstantiated dirt on every Republican in this city. Georgie, when this meeting is over, I need you to go down and fire the travel office staff. I want to put Harry’s people in there. There’s alot of opportunity for graft in that office.

STEPHANOPOULIS: Your dress is stunning, but what if they object to losing their jobs?

HILLARY: If they dare object, accuse them of crimes and sic the IRS and the FBI on them. We don’t pay those federal agents to sit on their asses all day.

FOSTER: (aghast) I've been a relatively moral person my whole life and I don't intend - (he starts to sputter) - if it's your intention that I should continue to witness this - this abuse of power - (he's really sore) I warn you, Hillary, it would go against my grain to desert you when you need me so badly - but I would feel obliged to ask that my resignation be accepted.

CLINTON: Did we get John Huang his top security clearance, yet? The Chinese are really pressing me for their payback. We’re gonna need them again in four years, and I don’t want to burn any bridges.

HILLARY: You know we can’t just let him resign Bill. He knows far too much, and he won’t stay quiet.

HILLARY: Don’t worry, I’ll see that he doesn’t. He certainly has seemed depressed lately. I sure hope he’s not suicidal.

STEPHANOPOULIS: You’re handwriting is excellent, sir, but you don't wanta make any promises you don't intend to keep.

CLINTON: (as he writes) Those are the only kind of promises I know how to make, Georgie. But this is different. These are promises to myself and they'll be kept. (stops for a minute and reads aloud what he has written) I'll conduct myself in a completely immoral shameless manner. (starts to write again; reading as he writes) If confronted with any evidence of wrong doing on my part, I’ll slander my accusers and deny everything. I will attach myself to the popular side of any issue, no matter what my personal beliefs are. I will destroy my enemies with slander, real or imagined, while whining about people who do the same to me.

CLINTON: (looking up and biting his lip) Oh it will work, Georgie. And if the heat gets too close to me, I won’t hesitate to start bombing some countries. I’m in this for the long haul.

He stops as Betty Currie walks into the room. She hands him an inner office envelope.

Clinton takes the envelope and removes the paper from within. He unfolds it, as Betty walks out and closes the door behind her.

CLINTON: This looks like my handwriting. “I, William Jefferson Clinton, will run the most ethical administration in the history of this country.”

He drops his head, as if contemplating the moral vacuum at the core of his soul, then he turns over the paper.

CLINTON: Oh, wait! I’m looking at the wrong side. It’s a Shoney’s menu! I guess we’re ordering out.

CLINTON: (pressing a button on his intercom and speaking into it) Betty, order us three po’ boys and three cheese fries with gravy from Shoney’s.

BETTY: (through the intercom) Right away, Mr. President. Oh while I have you... regarding your oral gratification - should I send in one of the sexy interns, or will you be using a professional this afternoon?

CLINTON: Betty, the first lady is here and she is eager to get her po’ boy...How about a little icksnay on the ojob blay?

HILLARY: Oh, puh-leeese. And give me that stupid declaration! You can’t put these thoughts into writing, no matter how much sense they make.

Hillary begins tearing up the “Declaration of No Principles” as the scene fades.

STEPHANOPOULIS: Well, that's about all there is - and I'm getting chills. Hey, nurse! (pause) You are quite handsome and you’re a great listener. I visited him once, at that studio out West - (as if trying to think) - you know. Miramax? Columbia? (pauses) Disney? What's the name of that place? You know... Oh, all right. Dreamworks. I knew what it was all the time. You caught on, didn't you?

STEPHANOPOULIS: I guess maybe I'm not as hard to see through as I think. You are an extremely intelligent man.

THOMPSON: What about “Rosebush”? Do you have any idea what his last word referred to?

STEPHANOPOULIS: I don't know. An old girlfriend? He had plenty. That tie goes with that shirt perfectly. Maybe it was an intern. Nope, I can’t say that I know what Rosebush means. Have you spoken to Dick Morris, yet? He may have an idea. He always knew lots more than he let on.

STEPHANOPOULIS: Tell him I said that he’s doing great work over there at NBC. Say can you do me a favor, before you go?

STEPHANOPOULIS: You are really good hearted. Can I compliment you incessantly on your way out?

STEPHANOPOULIS: You’re so kind. Those shoes are the epitome of class. I really mean that. It shows a highly developed sense of style on your part. You are certainly one of the most intelligent reporters I have ever met... Such a graceful gait...”

Stephanopoulis follows Mr. Thompson down the hall, showering him in praise as the scene fades out.

A huge office, the size of a conference room, with a panoramic view of upper Manhattan. An enormous, but uncluttered, desk sits in front of the floor-to-ceiling bank of windows. Looking tiny behind the desk, a little gray-haired fat man sits.

THOMPSON: Hello, Mr. Morris. It is very nice of you to take the time to meet with me. I know how busy a network news president must be.

MORRIS: Nonsense. I was sorry to hear that your grandfather passed on a few years back... You’re here to talk to me about Bill Clinton.

THOMPSON: Yes, I won’t take much of your time. I understand that you were quite influential in President Clinton’s decision making processes all those years ago.

MORRIS: (jokingly abashed) Don’t flatter me... or (mildly suspicious) are you condemning me? (laughs) In the end, Bill made the decisions he wanted to make. I just let him know how those decisions were going to be received at the time. History is for quarrelsome intellectuals to debate - I was a political consultant. As such, my analysis was always based on the moment. But yes, I was in on most of the big decisions.

MORRIS: That was for appearances. Like those negative articles I wrote about him - he rewrote everyone of those articles before they were printed... made them even more negative about him. He felt it made me look more credible, and that made me a more useful tool. As you can see, it helped my career as well. Anyway, he consulted with me quite a bit...even long after I’d left the administration...

The following section is a montage of conversations. Each time the scene fades out and then back in, Morris and Clinton are wearing different clothing, in completely different settings. Some conversations are over dinner, some early morning, some late at night; some in person, some over the phone; some in the oval office, with the weather and seasons varying in the background.

CLINTON: This Flowers thing could kill me. She’s gonna talk all about the sex, and she’s got tapes.

MORRIS: The critical thing is what’s on the tapes. Do you specifically mention the sex?

CLINTON: No, but we are very familiar, so I can’t dismiss the whole thing as a lie.

MORRIS: Nonsense, Bill, if you don’t talk about sex, you didn’t have sex.

CLINTON: Well, I do talk about getting her a government job...oh and we joke about Cuomo being in the mafia.

MORRIS: Hah, like he isn’t!! Listen say she’s only in it for the money...if there’s no sex talk, the media will ignore it. They’re obsessed with sex.

MORRIS: Then execute him! Look at it this way - if you commute the sentence, the death penalty gang jumps ship and goes over to Bush. If you give him the juice, where does the anti-death penalty crowd go? ...to Bush? I think not, do the math.

CLINTON: (impersonating a mentally retarded person) Sit in dis here chair? A seatbelt! Ah shaw like rides. Da metal hat is purdy... shiny wires...(shaking, pretending to be electrocuted) Ahhhhhhhh!!

MORRIS: This black church thing is perfect! We can really use it as a wedge.

CLINTON: But the Justice Department stats show no rise in the overall number of church burnings. And most of the fires were set by pyromaniacs or preachers looking to collect insurance. We can’t find a single one that was racially motivated.

MORRIS: What’s this?! Bill Clinton is suddenly concerned with the facts!! I’ll alert the media!!

CLINTON: (fake crying) These horrific racial crimes bring back the painful memories of church burnings in Arkansas when I was a boy...

CLINTON: What if Starr asks me if I had sex with Susan McDougal, do I tell the truth?

MORRIS: God no!! If you do that, then we’d have to leak it to the press and blame Starr for the leak. I wanna save that move for later. Don’t worry, Susan’s not going to give up any dirt on you - I had a man speak to her in prison. She’s like some weird groupie. Thanks to me, she’s now under the impression that you are just serving out your term with Hillary, then you’ll marry her.

MORRIS: I know, but there’s no way she’ll talk, so don’t you open your big fat mouth.

CLINTON: Thanks, Dick. I really was kinda embarrassed to admit to that one, anyway. She hasn’t aged well. You should have seen her when she was young - she was alot better looking.

MORRIS: Don’t try to shit me, I’ve seen pictures. You were slumming big time with that one!

CLINTON: I don’t know what you’re talking about...(laughing) I never had sex with her!

MORRIS: (incredulous) So Brodderick just submitted her affidavit to the Jones lawyers on her own?!

CLINTON: Yeah! Weirdest thing. Carville and Lenzner were gonna lean on her hard, but she just took the initiative before they got there. People who know her said she just wants to avoid the whole thing. Apparently, she still hates my guts over the incident, though.

CLINTON: Or a Serb, for that matter...at least we know she’ll stay quiet. That’s one less broad to worry about...

MORRIS: The new secret estimates show that as many as 800,000 Rwandans could die in the coming bloodshed. The government radio is calling on all Hutus to exterminate the Tutsi.

CLINTON: Do they want us to go in and do something? I’d have trouble selling intervention...no national interest.

MORRIS: Belgium is offering their troops to suppress it. They are in the country and are well armed and trained. They could probably prevent the great majority of deaths. The Hutus are doing most of the killings with machetes and gardening equipment. But, we do have congressional elections coming up, and it could backfire on us if things went bad.

CLINTON: I don’t want to do anything that might foul up those congressional races. Do you think the TV images of thousands of dying Africans will hurt our poll numbers?

MORRIS: (smiling) Have you ever seen the ratings for the UPN network? They’ve got black sitcom actors “dying” every night on that channel. People flip right by. I see no downside for us if we block the Belgian effort.

CLINTON: What about Jesse and the Black Caucus? Are they gonna raise a stink if we keep the UN out and hundreds of thousands Africans die?

MORRIS: Where’s Jesse and his posse going? They’ll just look the other way if you throw some new affirmative-action initiatives around.

CLINTON: And a little gubmint money. OK, I’ll tell Albright we’re a no-go on UN intervention. (laughing) “The UPN’s ratings”...you’re a sick bastard...(laughing harder)

CLINTON: She might have some tapes...some answering machine messages, or phone sex.

CLINTON: I don’t think so...hmmm...nah, she must have washed that by now...nope, no physical evidence.

MORRIS: Deny, deny, deny. And make it good! Right at the camera...point if you want, you gotta sell it!

MORRIS: Nothing short of military action is gonna knock her testimony off the front pages. Who ya gonna bomb?

CLINTON: What about North Korea? I’ve been telling everyone that they aren’t building nukes, even though they are... I could suddenly find out about it!

CLINTON: There’s some terrorist camps in Afghanistan I could hit...or an aspirin factory in Sudan, we’ve got some sketchy information that it could possibly be linked to Bin Laden.

MORRIS: Better bomb ‘em both, if you want to guarantee that she’s off page one.

CLINTON: The Chinese stuff is really bad. We’re talking treason now...hey, you didn’t hear me just say that!

CLINTON: (after a pause) How about Serbia? I could bring up atrocities...do a whole Hitler analogy.

MORRIS: They been at that ethnic cleansing stuff for almost a decade? Why now?

CLINTON: Well, they finally got me mad enough to act! I’ll get Blair on board, he’s a soft sell. We don’t even need a plan. I’ll bomb ‘em for a few months and declare victory. The press will love it - good for the ratings.

MORRIS: Halting atrocities? That just might work... plus, it’ll totally freeze out the peaceniks.

The montage is over. We are back in Dick Morris’ office. The city below is dark now, indicating that Morris has been talking for sometime.

MORRIS: I hope I’ve been of some help to you. Bill Clinton was a hard man to figure out.

MORRIS: Oh yeah... “Rosebush”...I talked to him alot, but he never mentioned Rosebush to me. I really don’t know. Did George Bush have a daughter? Just kidding. Nope... it doesn’t ring a bell. Have you spoken with Monica about it?

“Muffin Lips”, spelled out in neon, glows out of the darkness at the end of the fade out. Then there is lightning which reveals a squalid roof-top on which the sign stands. Thunder again, and faintly the sound of music from within. The camera moves in as Thompson walks through door to the seedy go-go bar, drunks stumble out, laughing.

Loud noise and music all around. All male clientele. Topless girls in G-strings dance in center of bar. Unheard conversation between Thompson and a very large bouncer. A bill changes hands. The bouncer walks Thompson towards a corner of the bar, where a very fat woman is bartending.

BOUNCER: Yo Monica, this is Mr. Thompson. Take a break. He wants to talk to you about Clinton.

Monica looks up into Thompson's face, with a dopey, sweet countenance - lonely... eager to please. She is almost fifty, trying to look much younger, in a cheap, enormously generous, black evening dress. Wearing her trademark beret, she is still trying to capitalize on her fame. The dress even has a well placed, intentional stain.

MONICA: (to the bouncer) This doesn’t count as my regular break, right, Manny?

BOUNCER: No, sweetie. He just wants to ask you some questions. I’ll bet there’s a good tip in it for you.

THOMPSON: Of course, there’s a sizable tip. Even more sizable if you can provide the answers I am looking for.

THOMPSON: I'd rather you just talked. Anything that comes into your mind - about yourself and the President.

MONICA: You wouldn't want to hear a lot of what comes into my mind about myself and Mr. Bill Clinton.

MONICA: I had a pizza... that was thirty years ago - and I still remember that pizza. Mmmm! It had sausages, pepperoni, extra cheese...

Monica, aged twenty-one, neatly but cheaply dressed, in a low cut dress. Showing generous cleavage, she carries a pizza towards the door to the oval office. Betty Currie watches as she approaches. No words are exchanged, but Betty smiles and gives her a thumbs up. Monica pulls down the front of her dress, exposing even more cleavage before knocking.

Scene moves in to the Oval Office. As Monica enters, Clinton puts his arm around her, letting it slide down onto her buttocks. He closes the door behind him.

CLINTON: My secretary prefers me to keep this door closed when I have a lady caller. She's a very decent woman. I was just about to head down into the White House storage area - in search of my youth... but I should have a bite to eat first. You see, my mother died, recently. I've sent for her belongings but I’ve been too busy to go down and look through them. I planned to make a sort of sentimental journey - (a melancholy tone overcomes his speech) - to the scenes of my youth - my childhood, I suppose...

His melancholy mood passes quickly, and thoughts return to the business at hand.

CLINTON: My, you’re a sexy, young thing. Hardly fat at all! Have I ever seen you before?

MONICA: (smiling very broadly) Why thank you Mr. President! We’ve passed in the halls a few times. You know, I have a bit of a crush on you.

CLINTON: Obviously, we're both lonely. (he smiles) Hey! Do you want to see an elephant?

The president pulls the pockets out of his suit pants, so they hang inside out at his sides.

MONICA: (flirtatiously) Well there’s his ears... but I want to see his trunk!

CLINTON: I didn't think you did. If you had, I wouldn't have asked you again, because I'd have remembered. How old?

MONICA: I saw the elephant alot after that. It sorta became my entire job. He was in love with me. But he never told me so until after it all came out about us. At first, when we were found out... he acted like he wasn't really in love with me. He was a little mean, even. I was all set to tell everything. Then, next thing I know, I was whisked away by some Arkansas State Troopers... right from the lobby of the Watergate hotel - in the middle of Washington! That kinda convinced me that he really cared about me.

MONICA: He really did love me, though. I know you don't believe me, but it just happens to be true! The troopers... they took me to see him. The Big He's dead now, (sniff) so I guess I can talk about it. He said we'd be in big trouble if Ken Starr even found out we were talking. I was supposed to be cooperating with Mr. Starr by then.

MONICA: Bill Clinton never told me to lie! He just made up stories that I should tell instead of the stories that actually happened. But I swear, Mr. Thompson, never once did he tell me to lie!

THOMPSON: Did you ever feel that he was just using you... you know... sexually?

MONICA: Of course not, he was really interested in my personality. (sharply) What are you smiling for? You think I'm delusional don't you? Just like my therapist! Well I'm not! Why else would Bill try so hard to get me a new job? I didn't ask for a new job! I didn't want to leave the White House. It was his idea - everything was his idea - except Linda Tripp’s tapes.

Monica is practicing her interviewing technique. Vernon Jordan is playing the role of interviewer. Clinton is seated nearby.

MONICA: I like to talk on the phone alot...to my friends and junk...lunch times the best part of the day...double whopper with cheese, fries, apple pie, and Diet Coke...twelve noon, like clockwork. I like sex, too...

CLINTON: Your job isn't to give Ms. Lewinsky your opinion of her interviewing skills. You're supposed to ensure she gets a good job in New York. Nothing more.

JORDAN: (sweating) But, it is impossible. If this ever comes out, I will be the laughingstock of the corporate world! People will say -

CLINTON: If you're interested in what people say, Vernon, I may be able to enlighten you a bit. The newspapers, for instance. I'm an authority on what the papers will say, Vernon, because I tell them what to say. It's all right, dear. Mr. Jordan is going to listen to reason. Aren't you, Vernon? (he looks him square in the eyes)

Monica and Thompson are still at the table. A stripper has sidled up next to Thompson. There is an awkward moment of silence, before Thompson stuffs a bill in her G-string. She sashays away, and the conversation continues.

MONICA: Well, as you know, I did get a job offer. At Revlon, in New York City. At first, they didn’t want to give me a job. They said I was inprofessional. But after a call from my interviewing coach, Mr. Jordan, they said I was the best candidate they ever saw.

MONICA: No, after the Ken Starr thing broke, it didn’t seem like a good idea. I did get tons of money for my book. Well, at least my lawyers did. I got some, though.

MONICA: (harshly) Don't you think I feel sorry for myself? (calming down) You're going down to Ken Starr’s warehouse next?

THOMPSON: Monday, with some of the boys from the office. Mr. Rawlston wants the whole place photographed carefully - all that evidence stuff. We need visuals you know...

MONICA: I know. If you're smart, you'll talk to Carville. He works as the night watchman there, now. You can learn a lot from him. He knows where the bodies are buried.

THOMPSON: What about the President’s last word? "Rosebush". Do you know anything about Rosebush?

MONICA: Maybe it was the color of the lipstick I wore on my Barbara Walter’s interview! He would have liked that color. He always said I had beautiful lips. And he told me that we would get back together one day. He was probably going to call soon. But now, he’s gone. Rosebush, huh, must have been that lipstick color...

MONICA: Oh... we would have got back together eventually, though. About that tip?

MONICA: A fifty! Wow, thanks! Usually, I have to show my boobs, or crush a beer can between them to get a tip like that. I guess that doesn’t sound very classy, but I do it in good taste.

DISSOLVE - INT. ANTEROOM TO THE EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE OF KEN STARR - NIGHT - 2023

Thompson enters an old government building, like a post office from the thirties. On the far wall, a pair of huge wooden doors. In the corner, a too small steel desk. Sitting behind it, like a grown man in a school boy’s chair, sits a very old and leathery James Carville. The maniacal look of insanity still glows in his beady eyes.

CARVILLE: Yeah, yeah...I know. Yaw that reporta fella... ya look sorta famil-yah, do ah knowed ya?

CARVILLE: Well, ask yer questions! They don’t pay me to sit around heah an’ do nuthin’... aww...(sadly) I reckon dey do.

THOMPSON: This is certainly an odd job for you to wind up with. You - guarding all this evidence... didn’t you hate Ken Starr?

CARVILLE: Hate!! They ain’t ‘vented da word for my feelin’s bout Ken Stahr!! Lowlife, tobacco money, sex obsessed, pahtisan, sex crazy, sex investagatah! Don’t cha even say that sex-crazed Ken Stahr name in heah!!

THOMPSON: Then why do you work here, guarding Ken St...er, “that guy’s” evidence.

CARVILLE: Dis is all dat’s left. No presidential librerry. Dey say da president were a traitah...sex-crazy Ken Stahr more like da traitah, if ya ask me...Juss nobody ask me anymo’...’cepting you... All Mistah Bill Clinton’s stuff down here, now.

THOMPSON: They’re closing this warehouse down soon. I hear that Whitewater investigation’s due to wrap up, next week. What will you do then?

CARVILLE: Ah dunno. Head back to da bayou, I suhpose. (sniff) Sometimes, I go in dere (points to the big double doors)... I touch da things he touched. Most moral man I’d ever know’d - Mistah Bill Clinton. Cain’t tell me otherwise. Mizz Hillary a saint, too. Ah, Hillary... ya tawk to her and da missus, yet?

THOMPSON: No, Ms. Rodham’s lawyer sent me a letter telling me that they would sue my newspaper if I even tried to contact her. Not many people even know where she’s hidden.

CARVILLE: She been through a lot. She da dearest woman I’d evah met... Sharp as a pistol too, she were... she knowed how to handle dem evil, “throwin’ da ol’ folk out on da street” ‘publicans I tell ya...

THOMPSON: Well things must have been crazy back then, with all the investigations and the impeachment.

CARVILLE: Tobacco money sex crazy Ken Stahr!! We had our supportahs, too, though. Celebrities, media, an’ all dat. Ah member a big fun’raisah we had...back in Hollywood...juss afore that ‘peachment...

A few hundred celebrities are at a sit-down fund-raiser for the The Bill Clinton Defense Fund. The final credits to a movie short are rolling, as wild applause fills the room. Bill Maher steps to the podium, acting as emcee. Behind the podium is a two story high blown up photo of Bill Clinton, biting his lip and looking as concerned and compassionate as is humanly possible. The camera shot occasionally changes during the speech, to catch reaction shots of the celebrities in the crowd.

MAHER: I’d like to thank Michael Moore for that unbelievably funny film! You’d think, after three movies and two TV series of essentially the same thing over and over again, your act might be wearing thin by now - but no, it’s still exciting! I couldn’t believe the look on Pope John Paul’s face when you knocked his big stupid hat off!! Then, when you asked him if he masturbates! That is just the sort of scathing social satire that we will lose if the Republicans ever manage to end government funding of the arts. Let’s hear it for Michael!

Standing ovation for the breathtaking artistry of Michael Moore, after which Maher launches into a biting, politically incorrect monologue...

MAHER: How about that Ken Starr? (boos) With forty million dollars, I could find a bounced check from Mother Teresa!

MAHER: That Bob Dole - he’s old. I heard he was sitting next to Lincoln at that theater!

More riotous laughter. Reaction shot of Bea Arthur spitting out her drink in an uncontrollable laugh spasm.

Whoopie falls off her chair. Puff Daddy drops his head onto the table, shaking with laughter at the stupidity of the name “Newt”.

Delta Burke is choking on her chocolate cheesecake, punching the table in hysterics.

MAHER: Well, I could go on all night, but now let me introduce my main man! The man who puts the “passion” in “compassion”. The only man who’s speeches actually give me a hard-on, THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - WILLIAM “THE LOVABLE ROGUE” CLINTON!!!!

All hell breaks loose. The huge doors at the back of the auditorium swing open, and the USC Marching Band storms in, playing Fleetwood Mac’s inane “Don’t Stop (Thinking About Tomorrow)”. Small fireworks blast in the rafters, as thousands of red balloons drop from the ceiling. Suddenly, the band splits into two sections and Bill and Hillary enter the auditorium between them. They’re holding hands and waving to the crowd. Bill repeatedly points to various celebrities, acts surprised and delighted by their presence, and gives them a thumbs up. Hillary is waving, but looks only at her husband, with an insanely exaggerated look of demented adoration.

Bill makes his way to the podium, while Hillary sits on the dais just to his left. When the crowd finally quiets down, Bill begins his speech.

CLINTON: Well thanks - thanks for that unexpectedly warm welcome. You’re all looking great tonight. It’s so wonderful to be amongst such talented friends and supporters.

That reminds of a wonderful story I made up about something that happened to me in my childhood. There was a poor black man who lived on my block, and he was always helping us children out. He would help us... oh, I don’t know...help us sing songs or something. Anyway, one day, I heard some men calling him vile, racist names. I went home and asked my mother why these men would pick on him. She told me that day - “There are evil people in this world, who’s only purpose in life is to hurt those who would do well by the children.”

The shot switches to Barbara Streisand, who is wiping away an invisible tear, while mouthing the words “So true...so true” to a drunk James Brolin.

CLINTON: I guess that’s why we’re here tonight. To raise the money I need to fight those who want me to stop helping children. I don’t need to name names...you know who is investigating me. Well, we won’t let that evil man stop us. The children need us, in some vague fuzzy sorta way, to continue our fight against the evil independent prosecutor!

As the crowd rises to give an enthusiastic standing ovation, the camera backs up and away from Clinton. Standing in the rafters high above the crowd, we see Ken Starr, as he turns and walks away in disgust.

DISSOLVE - INT. ANTEROOM TO THE EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE OF KEN STARR - NIGHT - 2023

Tears fill Carville’s eyes, as he remembers that speech. Then, suddenly, he becomes agitated.

CARVILLE: Dat were the night things went afoul. I were walkin’ da President and Hillary out to da car when I first seed da signs a trouble. Da press never knowed about de meetin’ at da Wah-ta-gate dat night. Evil tobacco money night, it were...

Hillary and Carville are standing outside by the door, waiting patiently for Bill to come out. He is still shaking hands with the likes of Alec Baldwin and Ed Asner. As he walks by Larry Flynt, Clinton reaches into his pocket for treat, places it into the appreciative Larry Flynt’s mouth and pats him on the head. Finally, he approaches with a big smile on his face.

CARVILLE: Gosh yess, Mr. President. I were in da front! I heared avery word.

CLINTON: I saw you! (he has his arm around Carville's shoulder and turns to the other men waiting) Good night, gentlemen.

There are good nights. The Presidential limo is at the curb and he starts to walk toward it with Carville and Hillary.

HILLARY: James, why don’t you grab a cab. I want to talk to Bill in private.

James nods and walks obediently towards the cab stand, peering back with a look of concern and confusion. The limo driver is holding the rear door open as Hillary and Bill get into the Presidential limo.

CLINTON: (as car starts to drive off) What's this all about, Hillary? I've had a very tiring day and -

HILLARY: We’re going to - (she looks at a slip of paper in her hand) - The Watergate Apartment complex. Can you tell me who “Monica” is?

CLINTON: Yeah, she’s a former intern. She gives me blow jobs now and then. Why are we going to see her?

HILLARY: I don’t know, but she sent me a note... and she says the press will soon know everything about you and her. Why do you keep doing dumb shit like this, you idiot?

CLINTON: (ignoring the question and groping for a solution) I think she may be suicidal...

HILLARY: I’ll let you know when she gets suicidal. Let’s go see what she wants first...

Bill and Hillary in front of an apartment door. Two secret service agents stand behind them. Hillary is pressing the bell. The door is opened by Monica.

MONICA: It wasn't my fault, Bill. He made me send your wife a note. He said I'd - oh, he's been saying the most terrible things, I didn't know what to do... This lady, Linda Tripp, made tapes. It’s so embarrassing!!

STARR: Good evening, Mr. President. (he rises and turns toward Hillary) I don't suppose anybody would introduce us. Mrs. Clinton, I am Ken Starr.

HILLARY: I know who you are, Mr. Starr. What is the meaning of this little get-together?

STARR: I encouraged Miss Lewinsky send you that note. She was a little unwilling at first - (he smiles) but she did it.

MONICA: I can’t believe the things I said on those tapes! Bill they’re so bad. Things about your penis, all sorts of things!

CLINTON: (turning on Starr) You’re this close to an accidental plane crash, Starr...

HILLARY: Bill! (he stops to look at her) Do you know if this room is bugged?! (she turns to Monica) “Serious consequences for Bill, for myself, and for our daughter”. What does this note mean, Miss -

MONICA: (stiffly) I'm Monica Lewinsky... I know what you think, Mrs. Clinton but -

MONICA: We had sex, Hillary!! Me and your husband!! All kinds of kinky sex!!

Hillary is looking at Monica with mildly amused disdain. She couldn’t care less.

HILLARY: I’m sorry, Miss Lewinsky, did he forget to pay you? (she turns to Starr) Mr. Starr, I know that this could prove quite embarrassing politically, but it is no concern of yours.

STARR: My concern is the fact that your husband committed perjury and obstruction of justice in the Paula Jones sexual harassment case, regarding his relationship with Miss Lewinsky. Impeachable offenses.

HILLARY: Bill, how could you do this to me?! You complete goddamned buffoon!!

CLINTON: Oh Hillary, it’s perjury about sex! You don’t really think this gentleman will charge me with perjury about sex, do you?

STARR: I'm not a gentleman, Mrs. Clinton, and your husband is just trying to be funny by calling me one. I am a prosecutor. If I were president, and I didn’t want people to find out about all my illegal transgressions, I would try to hide them. You’ve both done that very well. But, if I didn’t want to turn an investigation into an obsession, I wouldn't have my underlings question the motives and ethics of the prosecutor. I wouldn’t have them trash his reputation, and try to destroy the lives, through malicious slander, of those who work with him. Now I'm going to lay all my cards on the table. I'm fighting for my professional life. If your husband is allowed to remain as president...

STARR: This last week, I finally found out how I can remove your corrupt husband from office. But, I don't care whether the world knows what I know about him. Let him keep right on being the “Holy Savior of the Children”... just as long as -

STARR: That's the chance I'm willing to give you, Mr. Clinton. More of a chance than you'd give me. Unless you make up your mind by tomorrow that you're so sick that you've got to resign - I’ll have to begin crafting a recommendation of impeachment for the House Judiciary Committee.

MONICA: There is no story here. It's all lies. We never had sex, in a technical sense, anyway. It was a cigar that...

STARR: (to Monica) Shut up! (to Clinton) How the hell did you ever put up with this blabbering idiot?

STARR: Well, I've had a dozen men doing nothing but working on this - we've got evidence enough to - well, the evidence would stand up in any court of law. You want me to give you the evidence, Mr. Clinton?

CLINTON: You do anything you want to do. The people of this country can decide which one of us is most popular. If you want to know, they've already decided. Have you seen your poll numbers next to mine?

CLINTON: The law is irrelevant! I am popular, and in today’s America, that’s all that matters. You sir, are a... a nerd!

MONICA: What about me? Bill, he said my name'd be dragged through the mud. He said they’d make fun of me on Saturday Night Live. He said...

STARR: (to Hillary) I'd rather Mr. Clinton resign without having to go through an impeachment. The country would be better off that way.

HILLARY: Mr. Starr, in case you haven’t noticed, we really don’t care what’s good for the country. We’ll do what’s good for us, thank you.

CLINTON: (turning on him) I’ll deny everything and bury you in counter-accusations. Nobody will believe you.

STARR: You're making a bigger fool of yourself than I thought you would, Mr. Clinton. The American people would never tolerate a president who blatantly lies to them in the face of overwhelming evidence.

CLINTON: I think I know the American people alot better than you do. We’re outta here! I've got nothing to talk to you about. If you want to see me lie, watch my next press conference!

MONICA: (starting to cry) Bill, you're just excited. You don't realize what’s on those tapes... Hey! Where do you think you’re going, Bill?! You told me you loved me and you wanted to leave Hillary to marry me! Now’s you’re chance!

MONICA: (squealing) But what about me?! If this comes out, it will be too late...

CLINTON: Too late for what? Too late for you and this - this dork to take the love of the American people away from me? Well, you won't do it, I tell you. You won't do it!

MONICA: Bill, there are other things to think of... like your daughter - you don't want her to read in the papers...

CLINTON: It’s never been proven that she is my daughter!! I’ve never even met that hooker! She says I’m the girl’s father, but Shantelle was always saying outrageous stuff...

CLINTON: Oh, Web’s daugh... I mean... of course, Chelsea. Ummm... she’s an adult, now she can handle it.

Clinton starts to walk out, but Starr gets directly in front of him. The two secret service agents move closer, but stay out of it.

STARR: Mr. Clinton, you're the slimiest creature I've ever known. You now, there might be a few laws left in this country that you haven’t broken...

CLINTON: Give me time Mr. Starr, they’ve been making laws for 220 years, I’ve only been breaking them for thirty!

STARR: I know all about the stuff that went on in Arkansas - the drugs, the payoffs, the murders. I know about the cocaine, and China, and the Travel Office, and the FBI files, and so much more.

CLINTON: And the best you can impeach me on is sex lies? (chuckling) I can’t believe you couldn’t nail me on Foster!

STARR: Unfortunately, this is the only thing I can prove. I’m not very good at this investigating stuff... but I can prove this. And if it was anybody else, I'd say what's going to happen to you would be a lesson to you. Only you're going to need more than one lesson. And you're going to get more than one lesson.

CLINTON: (walking out with Hillary) Don't you worry about me. I'm William Jefferson Clinton! I'm a cheap, crooked politician, trying to save himself from the consequences of his crimes!! And I'm going to find the dirt on you Starr! I’ve got FBI files, private investigators, Larry Flynt!!!

Bill and Hillary storm down the hall arm in arm, trailed by the two secret service agents, as the scene fades away. A growing, spinning image appears on the screen, much like the newspaper that spins in old movies and then stops to reveal its headline. Only this time, it is a spinning computer monitor. When it stops spinning, the screen shows a banner headline on the Drudge Report - “Intern Sex Scandal Hits Clinton!!” Then, this too fades away.

DISSOLVE - INT. ANTEROOM TO THE EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE OF KEN STARR - NIGHT - 2023

Carville is still talking to Thompson. Thompson is listening intently, and writing in his notebook.

CARVILLE: Well, dey done it. Dey ‘peached ‘im.. EVIL TOBACCO MONEY SEX CRAZY BASTARDS!!! Sorry... ah still git worked up bout it. We thought dey’d chicken out in da house. We weren’t takin’ no chances in da Senate...

The President is sitting in his desk in the Oval Office. James Carville is seated in a chair to his left, with a pile of manila folders on his lap. Hillary is sitting to his right. There is an elderly, white man sitting in a chair in front of the desk. We can see the back of his head, but his face never comes into the shot.

CLINTON: Thanks for coming by today, Senator. I want to talk to about you about the impeachment vote, coming next week.

SENATOR: I’m sorry Mr. President, but I have to vote guilty. There is no possible way to look at the evidence and reach a conclusion that you did not commit impeachable offenses.

Carville quickly scans the file he has opened on his lap. He is still reading as he hands the file over to Clinton, pointing to the relevant spot.

CLINTON: Oh, yes. Senator do you remember the Royal Sands Motel in Miami beach?

SENATOR: Are you trying to intimidate me!? Well it won’t work! I am a man who takes his oath of office seriously!

CLINTON: It seems you checked in there under the name of Roscoe Fullman, and waited until someone showed up with $10,000 in cash from the Orange Growers Association.

CLINTON: That’s not important. What is important is that in addition to the $10,000, they threw in a little bonus... in the form of two beautiful hookers.

CLINTON: And here’s something you may not know. One of those hookers was only fourteen at the time... that’s not good.

HILLARY: (smiling) We’ve located that young lady. She will keep quiet or she will shout from the rooftops - which ever we pay her to do.

CLINTON: There’s one more bit of information you should know about the girl in question, Senator... or... or should I say “Daddy”?

CLINTON: Of all charges! Make sure you stress that to the press. Oh, I want you to bring up the fact that I would certainly be found innocent under Scottish law.

SENATOR: Scottish law?! What kind of a fool do I look like?! You want me to make a complete and total ass of myself!! I would rather die.

CLINTON: Oh, all right. You just tell the press something like “you can not in good conscience support this attempted coupe”. I’ll find somebody else to bring up the Scottish law thing.

CURRIE: Sir, Senator Specter is here to see you. Oh, and Olympia Snowe called. She turned down your request for a meeting - she said that her vote for conviction is firm.

CLINTON: (pushing the button on the intercom) Thank you Betty. Tell Senator Specter I’ll be with him in a minute. (he lets go of the button)

HILLARY: James, call Olympia and read her a little from her file. That Filipino stuff ought to do the trick.

CLINTON: Thanks for stopping by, Senator. On your way out, please tell Arlen to come in.

CLINTON: Oh hello Arlen! Please have a seat, I want to talk to you for a few minutes...

DISSOLVE - INT. ANTEROOM TO THE EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE OF KEN STARR - NIGHT - 2023

CARVILLE: He weren’t evah convicted ya know. Dat make ‘im innocent, in my book. He were truly a great and moral man. Most peepal ain’t know dat anymo’.

THOMPSON: What about the president’s last word? Do you know what “Rosebush” meant?

CARVILLE: I heared ‘im sayed dat once. Don’t reckon I knowed what he meaned, but I heared ‘im sayed it...It were afta a meetin’ wit Mizz Hillary...

Clinton is sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair. Hillary is coolly angry, standing in front of the desk, lecturing her husband.

HILLARY: I don’t care how difficult it will be... you are not to have any kind of sex with anyone for the remainder of your term.

CLINTON: Have you gone completely crazy? Don't you realize that I need that release!

HILLARY: You’ll have to learn to take care of yourself... have Larry give you some of his Hustler magazines.

HILLARY: Every time you open your zipper, you put everything we worked for at risk. Wait till your term is finished, then you can move to Hollywood and get right back into the action.

CLINTON: That’s a really long time away. I’m gonna go out of my mind if I can’t have sex. We got a whole new crop of interns coming in two weeks. College girls, for godssakes! You can’t do this to me! (pleading) I won’t go past third base...

HILLARY: If I find out you’ve had any sex from this moment on, I will make a big show of leaving you. I’ll do the whole suffering, hurt, little woman routine. You’ll see how it feels to have Ken Starr’s approval numbers! I’m sorry Bill, but it has to be this way - our political careers are at stake... And don’t even think of trying that “it’s not technically sex” crap with me!

Hillary turns, and starts walking towards the door. Bill starts to grovel. He has lost all pride.

CLINTON: Come on Hillary! It’s not fair! Please, just oral sex? Heavy petting?...(blubbering) Married women only - they don’t talk as much... second base... through the shirt?

Hillary’s hearing none of it. She marches out of the oval office. Clinton watches her go - alone in the Oval Office, devastated at his fate.

Suddenly he stands up, in a terrible, silent rage. He sweeps everything off his desk, scattering it all over the floor. Storming around the room, he grabs the pole holding the American flag next to the desk, and begins swinging it around the room. With the stars and stripes waving, he uses the flagpole to smash everything he can find. Paintings fly off the wall. He yanks the drapes down in one pull.

Carville stands in the doorway watching him. Clinton says nothing. He continues with tremendous speed and surprising strength, still wordlessly, tearing the room to bits. He knocks over chairs in his rage and stabs repeatedly, with the brass eagle atop the flagpole, at a portrait of George Washington . Standing on the Presidential seal, he beats the flagpole against the antique desk, splintering its top. Finally, he throws the flagpole at the row of windows behind his desk. The glass explodes in a rain of shards.

He stands, breathing heavily, in the center of the thoroughly trashed room. The shredded flag lies draped across the broken windows. Carville is still peering in at him, with Betty Currie standing aghast at his side. Other people have come out of their offices at the sound of the commotion and stare silently at the scene. He turns and mutters with deep despair - “Rosebush”.

Then he walks through the assemblage of people in the hall, and heads for his living quarters.

DISSOLVE - INT. ANTEROOM TO THE EVIDENCE WAREHOUSE OF KEN STARR - NIGHT - 2023

CARVILLE: Dat’s da onlyiest time I heared him sayed dat “Rosebush”. Nevah ask ‘im what it meaned. Best we not tawk ‘bout dat day wit ‘im. It were a sad, sad, day, dat day.

THOMPSON: Well thank you very much, Mr. Carville. I appreciate your taking the time to speak with me. Do you mind if I head into the warehouse, now?

CARVILLE: Go right ahead. Yaw reporta friends already in dere...taking pickchas a everythin’.

Thompson stands up and walks towards the big double doors. As he swings them open, the camera moves in to capture the cavernous room. It stretches out of sight, with boxes stacked ten high and hundreds deep.

Every last vestige of the Clinton administration, and Bill Clinton’s life, fills this room. Scattered amongst the endless boxes of files, are numerous unwanted statues and portraits of Bill and Hillary. In a far corner, we see a kitchen stove, a ratty rocking chair, yellowed framed newspaper clippings, an old fishing pole and other junk. Somewhere in the back, one of the vast Gothic windows of the hall is open and a light wind blows through the scene, rustling the papers.

In the center of the hall, a photographer and his assistant are busy photographing the various objects. They continue their work throughout the early part of the scene so that now and then a flash goes off. In addition to the photographer and his assistant, there are journalists - the Second and Third Journalists of the projection room scene.

The Third Journalist starts to jot this information down. The photographer is taking pictures.

ASSISTANT: Item number 10,293... a Cohiba Robusto cigar...oooh, it stinks...

ASSISTANT: Item number 9,345 Rocking chair from the estate of Virginia Kelly...value - six dollars.

THIRD JOURNALIST: Yep. He went right on investigating, right up until the end. Ask Thompson, he knows all about it. He knew Ken Starr very well...

Thompson has turned around. He is facing the camera for the first time, the resemblance suddenly obvious.

THOMPSON: My mother’s maiden name was Starr - Ken Starr was my grandfather.

SECOND JOURNALIST: Well that explains why you’re interviewing all these people! I thought it was weird that a journalist would actually try to get to the bottom of a story. What are you - obsessed?

THOMPSON: My grandfather trained me very well. I’m teaching my boy everything now, so he can continue the job after I’m gone. He’s only nine years old, but he knows that Chinagate saga inside out. When he’s a little older, I’ll let him study the Lewinsky affair.

THIRD JOURNALIST: I wonder... you put all this together - the files, the court transcripts, the junk and everything - what would it spell?

Another flash bulb goes off. The Third Journalist looks at Thompson with a grin.

THIRD JOURNALIST: Clinton’s last word. That was your angle, wasn't it, Thompson? Did you ever find out what it means?

THOMPSON: Digging in the dirt, I guess. I talked to a lot of people who knew him.

THOMPSON: Well - it's become a very clear picture. He was a charlatan, I guess. A snake charmer. He could make people believe anything that rolled out of his mouth. We’ll not see the likes of him again any time soon...

PHOTOGRAPHER: What about “Rosebush”? Do you think that explains anything?

THOMPSON: No, I don't. Not much anyway. William Jefferson Clinton was a man who, for a while, got away with everything... but history caught up with him in the end. A pretty embarrassing legacy, he left. He used and debased anything he could get his hands on - family, friends, voters, interns, the military - for his own personal pleasure. Maybe “Rosebush” was something he felt he could have abused for his own gratification, but he never got the chance to. No, I don't think “Rosebush” explains anything. I don't think any word explains a man's life. I guess “Rosebush” is just a piece in a jigsaw puzzle - a missing piece.

He picks up his overcoat - it has been resting on a stack of junk from Virginia Kelly’s home, a fishing pole rests on top - the same fishing pole that young Billy Clinton hit the cab driver with at the opening of the picture. The newspaper people gather up their belongings and leave the immense hall deserted, except for a group of workmen carting stuff away.

A large furnace, with an open door, dominates the scene. Two workmen are shoveling things into the furnace.

The camera travels to the pile that he has indicated. It is the relics from Virginia Kelly’s home. The workman grabs a portion of the pile and throws it into the furnace, with the fishing pole on top. As the camera comes close, it zooms in on the logo on the fishing pole. As the flames begin to consume it, we can read the logo, though the letters are faded. Clear as can be, the logo says, "Sears - Roebuck".

Suddenly, another portion of the junk pile lands in the furnace. On top sits a framed, yellowed front page - The Little Rock Daily Inquirer. Beneath the masthead, the date - August 30, 1964. The shot continues down the newspaper, and we come to a picture of young Billy Clinton. The accompanying headline reads, “Little Rock First - Local Boy Leaves For Colledge!” As the flames lick at the edges of the frame, the camera continues down the page, until we see a photo of a large white building, with dozens of rooms. Above the door to the building hangs a carved wooden sign that reads, “ROSEBUSH ACADEMY”. Below the photo is the headline - “All-Girl Catholic Boarding School Set To Open”.

Epic!

what do you think the run time will be?

maybe netflix will make a mini series?

I remember it the first time you posted. I still think the title should be ‘Citizen Stain’.

4 posted on 05/30/2019 7:38:30 PM PDT by texas booster (Join FreeRepublic's Folding@Home team (Team # 36120) Cure Alzheimer's!)

6 posted on 05/30/2019 8:52:00 PM PDT by mrsmith (Dumb sluts: Lifeblood of the Media, Backbone of the Democrat/RINO Party!)

I have a copy. Is it valuable? Is it still in print?

It’s very good and my familiarity with the movie enhances the reading experience.

You’ll need to rush that while the Soeotro’s hate the Clintoon’s and are still running Netflix. I bet they would run with it. All bets are off once the subpoenas start to fly.

9 posted on 05/30/2019 9:36:20 PM PDT by Delta 21 (Be strong & prosper, be weak & die! Stay true.... ~~ Donald J. Trump)

Excellent work on Snake Head’s accent. That had to be difficult.

10 posted on 05/30/2019 9:38:07 PM PDT by Delta 21 (Be strong & prosper, be weak & die! Stay true.... ~~ Donald J. Trump)

You’ll need to rush that while the Soeotro’s hate the Clintoon’s and are still running Netflix. I bet they would run with it. All bets are off once the subpoenas start to fly.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

lol

I forgot bout that soetoro hook up w/netflix.

Yup gonna be a cat fight when the subpoenas start flying

12 posted on 05/31/2019 4:33:33 AM PDT by Gay State Conservative (A Joke: Comey,Brennan and Lynch walk into a Barr...)

14 posted on 05/31/2019 6:37:33 AM PDT by Moltke (Reasoning with a liberal is like watering a rock in the hope to grow a building.)

Thanks for buying it back then! I don’t think it has any value on the book market. I think you can still buy it on Amazon, but I’m not sure. I really do appreciate you buying it!

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